


one day you'll be mine again

by rosecake



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Captivity, Grooming, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, M/M, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/pseuds/rosecake
Summary: Orson finally has Galen back.  Now it's time to shape him back into the man he should have been.





	one day you'll be mine again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



Orson ran his fingers through Galen's hair, still damp from the shower, pulling it back from his face. He dragged it to the side, trying to figure out how it would look when it was dried and properly brushed out. He could see Galen starring at this reflection in the mirror, his eyes still red-rimmed, mouth in a flat, sullen line.   

"You could have had a droid do this," said Galen.

"Well, where's the fun in that?"

True, a professional or a protocol droid could have done a neater job with him than Orson could manage himself, but it was Galen. A certain degree of scruffiness was part of the charm. And right now Orson didn't feel like letting anyone else touch him, not even a droid. 

Satisfied with his hair, Orson ran a hand down Galen's face, letting his fingers slide through Galen's beard experimentally until Galen jerked his head away. He could see the appeal in letting him keep it - Galen had kept a beard before, and it was a good look on him. Then again, it wasn't really in line with current Imperial preferences. No, it was a little too well-suited to the backwater farmer Lyra had tried to make of him, and Orson couldn't let that stand.  

Besides, he already had the razor out, he might as well use it. He picked it, and for a moment he considered sitting on the counter and reaching foward to shave Galen from there. He decided it was too far, though, and settled himself in Galen's lap instead.  "Hold still."  

"What the fuck are you doing?" asked Galen, struggling, basically doing the opposite of keeping still. Orson shifted forward, using his weight to keep him pinned down in the chair. After dragging him through the shower, Orson had given him a towel to wrap around himself for modesty's sake, but it was currently perilously close to coming unwrapped from around Galen's waist. Not that Orson really minded if he chose to reject that particular kindness.

"I told you to hold still," said Orson, reaching behind to drag his hand along the counter until he found the soap. "I'm going to shave the beard off." 

Galen closed his eyes. "Get off of me, Krennic."

"Make me," said Orson, lathering Galen's face, and Galen opened his eyes again to glower at him. He jerked his hands against the handcuffs Orson had fixed to the base of the chair. It was sad to have to take such measures, but Orson was well aware he hadn't full come around yet, and that meant certain safety measures were still necessary. Soon, though. Soon they'd be able to put the past behind them.  

Orson put the soap back on the counter and flicked open the straight razor. He shifted, spreading his legs a little so he could nestle closer, and Galen went still as the towel separating them ruched further up his thighs.

"Seriously, Galen," said Orson, letting the razor rest under the line of Galen's chin. "Don't move. I don't want to cut you."

"Do you think I really care what you do to me at this point?"

"Of course you care, Galen," said Orson. He slid his fingers through Galen's hair, relishing the softness, and stroked it a few times before gathering it together in his fist to force Galen's head back. "You care too much about everything, that's your whole problem."

Galen did stay still as razor blade swept up his neck and then up over his chin, but Orson kept a tight grip on his hair anyway. The last thing he needed was for Galen to make an attempt to slit his own throat on Orson's razor.  Not that he really thought Galen would.  Deep down, as much as he might like to deny it, Galen wasn't all that different from Orson. He was too proud and too driven to give up like that.

Orson had such grand plans for him. And he would have rather let Galen come around to them in his own time, but over the past few weeks it had become increasingly apparent that Galen would rather sit in his cell and sulk until the end of time than move on with his life.  Orson couldn't afford to let him waste away like that, not even if it was what he deserved. He'd spent years on Galen, bending over backwards to make his dreams a reality, only to be abandoned for poverty and obscurity.

It made no sense. If that was really what Galen wanted he would have never bothered leaving Grange.

Galen didn't try to move with the razor blade on him, but by the end of it he was lightly trembling. He stayed still until Orson was finished and had set the blade back down on the down on the counter.

"Are you done?" he asked, derision in his voice. 

"Almost," said Orson, anger clouding his judgment for a moment. "I missed a spot." 

He dragged the razor back over Galen's chin at a bad angle, nicking him slightly. Galen flinched as blood welled up from the cut.

"Sorry," said Orson, not really meaning it as he leaned forward to press his mouth to the cut.  He ran his tongue over it, licking up the blood, the copper taste of it mixed with soap. When he moved back Galen was looking away from him, his face pale, his mouth pressed into a straight line.   

Orson smiled. He climbed out of Galen's lap, ignoring the slight unsteadiness in his legs as he reached for a spare towel to douse with warm water. Oncee he had it, he slipped back into Galen's lap to clean his face of the remaining soap and stray hairs.

Galen steadfastly refused to make eye contact the entire time, his head listlessly turned to the side as Orson finished up with the towel. Orson could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, see the sharp angles of his chin, his cheekbones, his mouth. Fuck, his mouth. Orson had been forced to make due for years with holos, illicitly taken vids from the surveillance cameras in his apartment, and none of it did the reality of Galen justice.

He pressed a thumb to Galen's lips, and the moment Galen opened his mouth to object Orson pressed forward, kissing him. He pulled back on Galen's hair as Galen jerked up underneath him, hips bucking, probably trying to throw Orson off him.  It wasn't going to work. Orson wasn't going anywhere. He'd waited too long for this to be denied now, and he ground himself down into Galen's lap even as Galen continued to fight underneath him.

Finally Galen managed to catch Orson's lower lip between his teeth, biting down hard enough to draw blood, and Orson jerked back automatically.

"Get the fuck off of me, Krennic," spat Galen.

Orson licked his lip as Galen stared up at him, red-faced and panting, fire in his eyes. He gingerly prodded at the sore spot with his tongue. The towel around Galen's waist had fallen completely open in the struggle, and his cock was against Orson's thigh, already half-hard even as he feigned reluctance.  

Orson was in even worse shape. He was so hard it was painful the way his erection rubbing up against the fabric of his pants every time he so much as shifted. He'd been ready to fuck Galen since the second he'd found him, would have fucked him into the wet grass of Lah'mu if he could have.   

"Galen," said Orson, reaching down for Galen's cock, stroking him to full hardness as Galen's thighs tensed underneath him. "Come on, Galen. Do you really want to go back to your cell? Stare at the wall for the next few weeks?"

Galen moaned as Krennic stroked him, biting down on his lip to stop himself when he realized it. "Stop it," he said, even as his body arced up into Orson's touch.

Poor Galen. He'd never done very well with loneliness. He'd tried faking it when they were younger, back when they'd first met. Tried pretending that he was a loner who managed fine without other people around. But that false facade had cracked wide open the first time Orson had worked up the nerve to hold him down and fuck all the shy pretense of reluctance out of him. Really, that had been his mistake - he'd left Galen on his own for too long afterwards, been too focused on getting his career going, and then fucking Lyra had shown up and taken advantage of all Orson's hard work.

He never should have let Galen out of his sight.

Well, he had his second chance now, and Orson wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. He waited until Galen was fully hard, trembling and leaking pre-come over Orson's hand before he stopped for just long enough to pull out his own cock.

"Krennic," said Galen hoarsely as Orson stroked them together, rocking up against Galen in rhythm with the movements of his hand. He leaned in and threw his free arm around Galen's shoulder, leaning into bury his face against Galen's neck.

He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of him - he still knew the soap Galen liked, still had the same brand of aftershave he'd used on Coruscant, and the smell of it was achingly familiar. It made it feel like practically no time at all had passed since the last time Orson had him.  

The scent alone made him want to come, to finally feel the kind of release he'd been denied for fucking years on end, but he forced himself to wait. Galen had to come first. Orson couldn't think of any other way to break him of his stubborn denial.

He leaned in closer and pressed his mouth to Galen's throat, sucking at the soft, sensitive skin there, and felt the reaction shudder through Galen's body. "Come on, Galen," he said, softly, encouragingly. "It's fine. Just let go. You'll feel so much better once you let go."

"No, Orson," said Galen, his voice desperate as he shifted underneath Orson's steady hand. That was fine, he could resist all he wanted. Orson was willing to give him a little time when the waiting felt so good. He went back to mouthing Galen's neck, and when he bit down into the bruise he was leaving Galen finally came into his hand.

"See?" he said, as Galen's head dropped against his. "It's okay. I'll take care of you if you let me." He continued stroking his own cock against Galen's softening one for a moment, and when he was tired of holding himself he bit down into the bloody spot Galen had left on his lip with his own teeth. He came hard, panting against Galen's throat as he spent himself.

They both needed another shower before he got Galen into his new uniform, but he needed a moment before he was sure he could stand. Instead he pulled himself back enough to kiss Galen on his mouth again, not worried about being bitten again. Galen could bite all he wanted.  

"Un-cuff me," said Galen, his voice low, and after a moment of consideration Orson complied. He reached forward, fumbling to press his thumbprint against the right spot to unlock the cuffs. They popped open after a second, freeing Galen's hands, and he brought them up to Orson's hips.  His grip was hesitant at first, too soft, nearly reluctant, but it only took a moment before he was dragging Orson in closer.

Orson sighed in satisfaction. There was still a lot of work to be done before Galen was fully broken in, but the hook was there, and the rest would follow in time.


End file.
